


Routine

by ImproperDancer



Series: Campaign Stories [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: D&D, Drow, Dungeons and Dragons, Eleir'Than, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImproperDancer/pseuds/ImproperDancer
Summary: Her companions have gone to sleep and Ril is left to herself to take the night watch. She settles into a routine and keeps herself content with the things she enjoys to do on a night that has shining stars and a moon to keep her safe.





	Routine

Ril’s eyes were locked in on the campfire. The amber and red flames licking at the air where the moths ventured dangerously close to their goal and doom. The heat that washed across her face was a pleasant reprieve from the night that had begun to set a gentle chill into the rocks and trees around the campfire. Her clothes of dark leather and cloth absorbed the warmth and almost had her sweating as she sat a couple of feet from the fire, resting on her knees. Although her eyes reflected the burning fire and the crackling wood and kindling dominated the quiet soundscape her senses remained sharply focused on the woods they had come to rest in. 

Her dark, long, pointed Drow ears twitched and flicked constantly, each time picking a new sound that the woods offered in the inky dark of the night. She could hear an owl deeper into the woods, hooting melodically in her tree. A fox, maybe two, rummaged around the litter of the leaves and twigs on the floor. No, she was mistaken, three foxes. She could hear their sniffing and the light patting of their feet. There was, of course, something much larger stalking around the woods that the foxes didn’t appear to be bothered by. It was big, maybe as big as a horse, and walked on four legs as each step heavily set itself into the dirt. By those footsteps it would have to weigh at least as much as a large horse. It didn’t growl or offer much clue in its sounds as to its nature but it was also searching for something as the loud sniffing revealed.

Of course, she could have looked into the dark woods and likely get a decent view of what the creature was with her darkvision helping her cut through the dark with ease. But there was no need for that. Her hearing would warn her of dangers just as quickly and, from what she could discern, nothing was moving any closer to the camp. So, for now, the beast could continue with its business and she would continue with hers. 

Ril closed her eyes, her eyelids soothing her eyes which had become dry by the fire. She took a long and deep breath as she relaxed her posture slightly. While her companions had eaten their meals and set their beds Ril had spent her few hours in the restful trance that her kind needed in place of sleep. As it were, this allowed everyone else to rest while she remained awake and kept a lookout. She was content enough with this arrangement, she much preferred the night compared to the day. The moon offered a soft and peaceful light, much unlike the sun who’s harsh, burning light was an assault to Ril’s senses. The night was peaceful and quiet, as all things should be, and those who came out at night were much more interesting than those who came out during the day. That was Ril’s opinion, at least.

Opening her eyes, she gave a quick glance around the camp and looked to her travel companions. They all rested peacefully, it seemed, each one wrapped in their bedroll several feet from the fire in the vague idea of a circle. The day and night had been clear and mild so there were no tents this night. Everyone slept under the light of the stars and the watch of the moon. That was protection enough for Ril to spend some time cleaning her knives, she thought. Terrible things only happened on a night with no moon.

Standing up she walked to her pack which sat beside Endymion, the tall Aasimar she had become attached to much quicker than she had anticipated. She glanced at the tall figure as he lay on his bedroll. He looked peaceful as he slept, he always did. Ril nodded to herself, content that he was sleeping soundly. She rummaged through her bags quietly for a few moments as she could never remember where she kept anything; she always just stuffed her belongings in haphazardly. Eventually she found the polish, oils and raggedy cloth she kept for cleaning her knives and sword. She put them down to one side as she closed her bags and opened the side pocket. She may have always stuffed her things into her bags with little care but she could never do that to her most prized possession. She removed the cloth doll from the pouch and held it close to her chest. She gathered up her cleaning supplies and walked back to her spot by the fire.

As she sat down cross-legged in front of the fire Ril placed her cleaning supplies down beside her and the doll sat carefully in the space made between her legs. She ensured the doll was sat comfortably with the back as straight as she could, as that was how she had always sat, much to the contrast of Ril’s slouch. Ril removed her own hooded cloak, laying it out on the ground before her. She smoothed out an area on the cloth and began the careful operation of removing her knives from her person. She unsheathed each one carefully and slowly, taking her time to just enjoy in the therapeutic activity. Two blades came from her wrists, the smallest blades. Four were removed from their sheaths on her chest, two on each side of her ribs. The two largest knives were strapped without sheaths on the outside of her thighs, held in place by leather straps. Two small knives slid out from their spots on the inside of her thighs. The final two blades came from inside her boots, sheathed against her ankles. She laid out all the knives on her cloak before her, twelve blades dancing with the amber and red of the fire which reflected upon the perfectly smooth surfaces. Finally, Ril unsheathed her sword. A long, curved blade the scimitar, which remained hidden upside-down in a scabbard on her back, was a stark contrast to everything else Ril owned. The handle was a bright white ivory, inlaid with gold spider-web patterns and the pommel held an ornate spider carved perfectly out of a glimmering emerald. The blade itself was perfectly and beautifully made, long and razor sharp with a serrated edge extending 5 inches from the hilt. It was a sword of her House, obviously, gifted to her when she had come of age. It was ostentatious, beautiful and completely obscene, yet Ril never found a sword she would have rather used. She set the ornate weapon upon her cloak and began her routine of cleaning her blades. 

Ril’s small, lithe figure set an unassuming silhouette in the firelight. She was small in both frame and height, standing at least a solid foot below Endymion who easily stretched a few inches over six feet. Her clothes were that of a typical Silent Sister, everything dyed a deep black with a simple tightly fitted shirt and trousers sitting underneath an ocean of black leather. Her ebony leather armour, a breastplate and small pauldrons, was fitted as close to her body as possible. She spent her time lurking in shadows, climbing windows and silently sneaking by guards, she could not deal with large clunky metal armour. She needed armour that didn’t clink or clang and armour that allowed her the full range of movement in her body. She wore black gloves, backed in leather and her tight, stretchy scarf was always brought up to wrap around her face, sitting on the bridge of her nose to obscure her face as was the way of The Silence. But, tonight, the scarf hung loose around her neck and her gloves to the side, leaving far more bare skin showing than Ril would ever allow had her companions been awake.

The sound of soft squeaking and the light ring of metal joined the chorus of the crackling fire and musical night sounds of the woods. The cloth, damp with oil, cleaned and polished the blades until they were mirrors that showed Ril the stars she sat under or shone the firelight back to the flames. She handled the blades carefully, treating each one with the care and delicate touch that they required for the cleaning. The sharp edges almost sang as the cloth and oil gleamed across the metal surfaces. The blades had no handle to speak of, made entirely out of a single piece of metal. The razor sharp blade formed into a soft and rounded end with subtle grooves made against Ril’s hand measurements to ensure that they were made perfectly for her sole use. She polished every inch of the blades until she had, laid before her, twelves sharp mirrors that were clean and shiny enough to create a dazzling dapple on the nearby trees. Ril had to be careful that she didn’t accidentally reflect light onto the closed eyes of her snoozing companions.

Content with the gleam of her blades, Ril glanced up to the sky above her. By her reckoning maybe two hours had gone by. She took time when he cleaned her blades and especially with her scimitar as her regular oil could clean the blade but she had to use her other, special oil for the gold inlays, lest she damage the gold. She returned each blade to their rightful place on her person, now gliding almost without friction into each sheath and letting out a contented little ring when they brushed against the leather. Her blades were happy again, Ril thought, and she was pleased at having taken the time to do some cleaning. She tried to do it at least once a week but sometimes she ended up going a little longer. 

With each blade back where it belonged, Ril set her cloak to be by her side and just plopped her cleaning supplies on top of the cloak. Ril took a breath and relaxed. She picked up the doll and unfolded her legs, stretching them out before her. She made a soft groan as she stretched her legs, the bones cracking and muscles aching slightly from being folded for so long. She sighed happily, her legs feeling much better now. She held the cloth doll in her hands, resting on her lap in a seated position. The doll was well made and obviously meticulously cared for. It was of a Drow girl, dark skin and bright white hair. Big black eyes of obsidian stone were set into the face, glimmering in the firelight and shining up at Ril. A warm, soft smile sewn in gave the doll a youthful aura. The doll wore a soft dark grey shirt and navy trousers. All things said, the doll stood at about eight or nine inches and was the perfect size to hold tightly against Ril’s chest or to cuddle in the crook of her neck. The doll smiled up at Ril, eyes bright and shining in the light. Renn had always liked to watch the stars at night and so Ril did her best to make sure she saw the glimmer of the stars each night that there was a moon to keep them both safe. 

As the night grew old and the dawn approached Ril dabbed her doll’s face dry with her sleeve before giving it a soft kiss on the cheek. She stood up, collecting her cloak and items, to return everything to her bags. She stuffed the cleaning supplies into a different bag than the one she had taken them out of. She carefully put the doll away in her special pouch on her bag, ensuring not crease or hurt the doll as she put it away. She tugged her scarf up over her face, pulled on her gloves and flung the cloak over her shoulders and took a moment to adjust it to fall over her as she wished it to. She pulled her hood up ready to face the horrid glare of the bold and relentless sun and stretched her limbs out. With a few quiet groans and cracking of joints she shook her arms and legs and hopped on the spot a couple of times to make herself more alert. She scuttled over to a large rock that sat at the edge of the camp, where she had been sitting before everyone fell asleep.

Ril positioned herself to be as close as she could remember to the same posture as everyone had last seen her take as she waited for everyone to be woken up by the harsh and rude light of the sun which had now crested the horizon in earnest. The fire was nothing more than a shallow pile of embers, still providing a low heat that was soon drowned out by the warmth of the sun. Ril sat impatiently on the rock, bouncing slightly, waiting for her companions to wake up. She looked to Endymion who began to stir and his arms rose up in a broad stretch as he let out a long, low yawn. His hands rubbed his eyes and face. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking around the camp. As his eyes came around and landed on Ril she beamed from beneath her mask and gave an excited wave, followed by a quick flash of her hands as she signed.

_Good morning, Endy!_


End file.
